David Eileen: THERE IS NOTHING TO BE FIXED

Poetry by David Eileen
THERE IS NOTHING TO BE FIXED

Maybe a path to be cleared or to be sweetened so that
serenity walks freely across my body. Without gates
deer pass through our yard, licking the persimmon
deer jam I spread thick & pink. They glow their green
eyes against the tall grass at night: a herd startled
scatters like glass marbles. They will come back
only if I don’t depend on it. They’re beckoned only
when I wait & watch with my eyes open, slow blinking
to see which brown branches sometimes give
way to brown tail, which tails might leap into white.

Once I narrowed my eyes at a dun gray stump in the distance,
convinced myself all the stillness made it so. Only when
I looked away, relaxed my gaze, did the head of the fawn
raise to see around herself, to check for motion, her presence
to the moment a matter of clean & ready survival.

David Eileen lives in the mountains of Virginia. Their writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Black Warrior Review, The Atlantic, Diagram, Painted Bride Quarterly, and Best of the Net, with more at their website. A big fan of talking to your neighbors, their work & letters are concerned with queer resilience, labor rights, solidarity, & care for our planet. They would love to talk to you.